I have always been attracted to symmetry. Ever since childhood, symmetry and equilibrium have always put me at ease and gave me a sense of aesthetic satisfaction.

In graduate school, I studied the process of differentiation (read “development”) of nerve cells called neurons. Neurons have beautiful architecture, but are never actually symmetrical. Yet they still give that sense of balance. One metric of neuronal differentiation is the measurement of their processes called neurites. Neurons send out their neurites in all directions to sense the surrounding environment and bring information back to the mother ship – the cell body. Their growth and branching can be measured using so called Sholl analysis, in which you draw multiple concentric circles around the cell body and count the number of times each circle intersects with a neurite. That gives a good measure of neuronal branching, which is directly proportional to the cell’s capacity of receiving and integrating information.

While my project primarily required calculating the percentage of cells that met a certain criteria of minimal differentiation, when I first found out about Sholl analysis , I tried very hard to find an application for it. I was secretly hoping that the treatment I applied to the cells would have an observable effect on their branching, just so that I could get the aesthetic satisfaction of performing Sholl analysis. It seemed a bit silly, but brought a different type of gratification.

Towards the end of this summer, I found myself in need of finding a few peaceful moments. I sat down in a local park after work and sketched out a diagram of Sholl analysis with a beaded neuron in the middle. This idea has been in the back of my mind ever since I started NeuroBead.

Weeks later, my daughter saw the sketch in my notebook and asked how I could draw out every single bead in the sketch. I smiled.

The actual challenge came much later, when I began to brainstorm how to assemble the framework for this piece. It need to be sturdy but floating, concentric but three-dimensional. It reminded me of the spiral of knowledge I wrote about in my personal statement for graduate school.

Here is the finished piece that still pulls at my heartstrings. It gives a sense of peace and balance, while leaving enough room for individuality, curiosity and exploration as the neurites project their tips in different directions to make sense of their surroundings. They are pushing their limits to explore the unknown.

This is a limited edition piece that has not been posted in my Etsy Shop. For purchasing information, please contact me directly at yzorina@gmail.com. The first person to re-blog this post will receive a 10% discount for their next purchase!

Share this:

Like this:

LikeLoading...

Related

Published by Yana Zorina

I am a neurobiologist with a life long passion for art. As I child, creating artwork was my oasis. Since then I went to graduate school, received a Ph.D. In Neuroscience, got married and had two daughters. The time has come for me to bring my passion for artwork back into my life. Now, I will unite the scientist and the artist in myself to create beautiful, biologically-inspired pieces.
View all posts by Yana Zorina

6 thoughts on ““Branching Out” – the story of Sholl analysis ”

I first saw this piece in your blog from Dec 22. I liked it, but wondered about the concentric circles. Now that I know what they mean, this piece takes on a whole new meaning. I just love how you meld science and art together.

Thanks a lot, Karen! I am glad that my blog brings some light to the artwork that I would like to communicate to the world. I don’t think that the picture really shows it, but the rings actually stick out of the frame toward the viewer, following my theme of science not being confounded by the frame.